


Falling

by SecretlyThranduil



Series: Tumblr Prompts and Asks [8]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: It starts off sweet but really isn't, M/M, Tyelpe is having a Bad Time, silvergifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:27:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25850566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecretlyThranduil/pseuds/SecretlyThranduil
Summary: Tumblr prompt for Nelyolofinwe!Was given a fluffy or an angsty prompt, so I did both naturally.'I think I'm in love with you' and 'I told you not to fall in love with me' for SilvergiftingRated M because Tyelpe is not having fun right now
Relationships: Annatar/Celebrimbor | Telperinquar, Celebrimbor | Telperinquar/Sauron | Mairon
Series: Tumblr Prompts and Asks [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1817521
Comments: 16
Kudos: 38





	Falling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NelyoNelyos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NelyoNelyos/gifts).



They had done it. The first of the rings was made, and it was beautiful.

As skilled as Celebrimbor was, as much as his father and grandfather had taught him, he could not have done it without Annatar.

Oh, how he admired Annatar. He was tall, and fair, and kind, and just so… beautiful. Ethereal. He did not have the words to describe him, he was no wordsmith like Fëanor. Another way in which he was a disappointment to his house.

Annatar had caught Celebrimbor staring at him on more than one occasion, but was likely too gracious to comment on it, to embarrass him further than necessary. And he certainly would not return those feelings. Why would he? What would a Maia such as him want with a doomed Noldor like Celebrimbor?

But with this ring? Those feelings couldn’t stay hidden forever.

Things had changed now.

With this ring, they had made something beautiful together.

He would tell him, Annatar deserved the truth from him, even though he was more than Celebrimbor could ever hope to be.

  
One deep breath, and the truth was out.

“I think I’m in love with you, Annatar.”

Annatar stopped tidying the workbench, and turned to look at him with a sad smile.

“I know Tyelpë, but you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t fall in love with me. It’s complicated.”

Celebrimbor knew that much, after all, what _wasn’t_ complicated in Middle Earth?

“I know Annatar, but I do all the same.”

“And I you,” the Maia replied, with a fondness in his eyes.

But Celebrimbor did not notice that Annatar wasn’t _exactly_ speaking to him.

If only he had noticed how Annatar looked at the ring.

If only.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What had he done?

_What had he done?_

He had _known_ something wasn’t right, but he had ignored that gut feeling for the love of Annatar.

Annatar, who was dragging him from a cell by the chains around his wrists. Annatar, who was not who he had claimed to be.

His pleas made no impact. His tears made no difference.

He was being dragged to his fate.

“I loved you, Annatar.”

Annatar stopped pulling his chains, and turned to look at him, a dark smile twisting his still-fair features.

“Yes, yes you did.”

And then he carried on dragging him further and further into the dark.

“I thought you loved me too.”

Well, that was the wrong thing to say. Annatar stopped once again, and stared incredulously at Celebrimbor.

“You’re just as deluded as you are desperate for approval. No wonder your family tired of you.”

And into the dark he was taken.

Eru only knows how long passed. How long Annatar’s tortured lasted without end. No food, no water, no sleep. No mercy.

Time and time again, he was asked where the rings were. The Three he had made alone. He would not even think of them, lest Annatar read his thoughts.

He did not tell him.

Time and time again, Celebrimbor asked _why_. _Why was he doing this?_

The answer should not have guilted him, for he had done no wrong. But it did.

“Because you won’t help me, Tyelpë, why won’t you help me?”

No matter how much he begged, how much he pleaded, how much he _screamed_ , Annatar did not stop.

He just _laughed_.

Even when he was too weak to try to hold himself up in his chains, too weak to lift his head to look at his tormentor, he remained defiant. He was a Fëanorian, after all.

“I’ll never tell you anything.”

There was that grin again, a smile that had once seemed lovely on that face, now too sharp, sadistic.

“Good”, Annatar crooned, smiling. “I am going to enjoy this.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I don’t know where the rings are, I swear to you!”

But Annatar had long given up the pretence of caring for him. There was no reason to lie now.

“Oh, of _course_ you don’t. You only _made_ them after all.”

His head was slammed into the wall, for this lie. Annatar was tiring of his defiance. This charade had gone on for too long. It had been too long for Celebrimbor to even guess at how long he had been down here now.

“ _Now tell the truth.”_

Except he wasn’t being defiant. He did not know. He made sure that he did not know who had the rings, or where they were. It seems he had at least _one_ scrap of sense left in him when it mattered.

“Tell me where they are Tyelpë. I know you know.”

He didn’t. Though it hardly mattered what he told Annatar now.

He wasn’t going to make it out of here.

“It doesn’t matter what you think of me now, it’s what you tell me that counts.”

No.

No, he _couldn’t._

_But he wanted to._

“I’m sorry I made them without you, I’m sorry I hid them from you” Celebrimbor admitted.

That was what Annatar wanted to hear, wasn’t it? Would it be enough to make him stop?

Of course not.

“Stop saying that. You are not sorry. You’re a deceiver, Tyelpë.”

Of course, his tears made no impact.

“I would tell you if I knew Annatar. I would tell you.”

Annatar paused at that, placing his hand against his cheek.

“You will suffer, you know.”

Celebrimbor knew.

The touch of Annatar’s – _no, Sauron’s_ – hand against his face was gentle, too gentle, a mockery of what they had before. What Celebrimbor _thought_ they’d had. How could he have been so blind?

“Oh Tyelpë, I told you not to fall in love with me.”

He wished he didn’t love Annatar.

But he did.

And it hurt more than any torture he could go through.


End file.
